


Wings

by jaminsjiminsjams



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: M/M, spn fanfic, spn fanfiction, supernatural fanfic - Freeform, supernatural fanfiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-27 23:59:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16712542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaminsjiminsjams/pseuds/jaminsjiminsjams





	Wings

Castiel practically collapses onto the chair when they finally reached the bunker, a low groan falling past his lips as he places his hand on his shoulder, feeling the ache of the battle now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

“I hate demons,” Dean grumbles, tossing his duffle on the table. “They ruin everything.” He grimaces, wiping some grime off his forehead. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up,” he glances back at Sam and Castiel. “You two good?”

“Yeah, Dean.” Sam waves his hand. “Please, for our sake go get cleaned up.” Dean nods, turning his gaze to Castiel.

“Cas? You good?” The only response he can muster is a low, short grunt, and he raises his gaze to Dean. “Uh, dude,” Dean steps forward slowly, shooting Sam a questioning look as he approaches Castiel. “You okay? You look a little…not okay.” Castiel’s eyes flutter shut.

“I’m fine, Dean,” he croaks, “it’s nothing that won’t heal over time.” Dean kneels in front of Castiel and peers up at him.

“Cas, buddy,” Castiel’s eyes flutter open and he lowers his gaze to Dean. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s fine, Dean.”

“No- no, it’s not. I don’t know about you and your angel buddies, but when one of my friends gets hurt, I help them out. So, what is it? Did you get stabbed? Sliced? Where is it, Sammy and I can stitch you up Cas.”

“It’s not…my body,” Castiel says slowly, “my vessels body.” Dean tilts his head, a confused expression crossing his face. “Every now and then,” Castiel gasps slightly, slamming his mouth and eyes shut. “My wings,” he chokes out, “they were damaged in the battle,” he swallows roughly, leaning his head back against the chair. “It’s nothing that won't heal, Dean.”

“Is there…anything we could do?” Dean offers, glancing over to Sam. “To at least lessen your pain?” Sam shoots his brother an annoyed look at dragging him into this, and then he sees the raw concern on Dean’s face and watches his brother stand up, placing his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Come on, buddy, let me help you.”

Sam scutters over to the table, grabbing the first lore book he finds and holding it in the air. “I actually have to go,” he stutters, “research, get knowledge on more supernatural, uh, stuff- but you have fun with that! I mean, make sure Cas gets better, and stuff- thanks for the offer though, Dean.” Dean barely has time to shoot Sam an annoyed look before he scurries off down the hall.

“Damnit,” Dean murmurs, staring down at Castiel. “Come on, buddy, let’s go patch you up. Would I patch you up? How do I- how do I patch up wings?” Castiel frowns, turning his gaze away from Dean’s questioning stare.

“I don’t require your help Dean, really.”

“Cas, buddy, let me help you. I can’t count the times you’ve saved my ass or healed me without even asking. Let me repay you.” Castiel glances up at his friend, and sighs, shifting slightly and grabbing the armrest for support as he stands up.

“I can’t guarantee there will be any easy way to mend them,” he comments, rolling his shoulders slightly. “I’ve only ever groomed my wings before.”

“Groomed?” Dean repeats, something in his stomach dropping.

“Uh- yes, like, humans with their hair.”

“Like…birds?” Castiel shoots Dean an offended look.

“I don’t peck at my feathers, Dean.” Castiel gives Dean an incredulous look and sighs. Dean turns his gaze to the ground.

“I- I didn’t mean it like that Cas.” His face heats up slightly. “Angels sure are protective over their wings, huh?”

“They’re a part of us, Dean,” Castiel says, shifting awkwardly. “They…they’re important.” He looks away, his jaw clenching lightly. “Which- I have to tell you, before this…before you help me.” Dean’s gaze snaps up to meet him. “M- my uh, wings…they aren’t in the best condition.” He says slowly, “they aren’t at their full…potential anymore. They used to be much more impressive- but, over the years they’ve been damaged. Sometimes beyond repair- but, I just wanted to let you know, because…they didn’t used to look like this.”

“Dude- I don’t care what they look like. I mean, hey, it’s not the condition of the wings, but how you use them, right?” Dean winks, instant regret and shame filling him as Castiel stiffens slightly. “Ah- I’m sorry, I’ll stop making jokes now.” He laughs sheepishly, unable to place the fluttering feeling in his stomach and chest as Castiel moves to unbutton his bloodied shirt. Castiel fumbles with his shirt slightly, eventually getting it unbuttoned and shrugging it off his body. He hangs his head in shame as his shoulders press back slightly, “close your eyes.” He whispers, his voice barely audible. Dean closes his eyes quickly, red filling his vision as the light presses against his eyes, and then it goes dark. Dean licks his lips quickly, tentatively opening his eyes.

Castiel stays in front of him, his wings hanging limply around him, his head still hung, his gaze focused on the ground as his wings curl slightly around himself, dozens of feathers missing, or twisted painfully and close to falling off- some even sliced in half, some look as if they were painfully plucked from his wings. His wings curl more, protectively moving around his body to hide all the other cuts and gashes marring his torso.

“C-Cas,” Dean whispers, moving forward slowly. “What the hell happened to them?” Castiel keeps his head down, not looking up at Dean. “Son of a bitch,” Dean murmurs, his hand reaching out slowly to touch the edge of his wing.

Castiel flinches back, his wings pulling closer to his body. Dean looks down at his now blood coated hand, no possible expression being enough to convey the burning he feels in his chest, his expression stays stoic.

“Castiel,” he murmurs, moving forward slowly. “If I’m going to help you, you have to let me actually…touch your wings.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.” He says softly. “I’m just ashamed.” He looks away. “They haven’t been at their full potential in…years.” He slowly raises his gaze. “I trust you, Dean- it’s just…” when Dean meets his gaze, Castiel looks away quickly, once again staring at the ground. “They’re embarrassing,” Dean frowns and shakes his head.

“They aren’t, Cas. I don’t even have wings,” he comments softly, reaching out slowly to examine his wings. “You just…you actually fight, Cas. They’re no different from any scars Sam or I have.” He smiles and pats Castiel’s shoulder slightly. “Come on, buddy. I can’t help you if I can’t get to half of your wings.” Castiel looks down again, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply as he rolls his shoulders, his wings fluttering back and expanding as far as they can, some of the feathers floating to the ground in the process. “Okay, so, do you actually like…wash them? Like, with a washcloth, or…”

“I definitely don’t use a birdbath,” Castiel comments, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “yes, Dean. A washcloth will do well, I suppose.” Dean smiles, his heart fluttering slightly, and he nods.

“Okay, gotcha…I’ll go get that- and, do you, bandage or wings, or…”

“No, once all the feathers are straightened and removed- the ones that need to be, that is- I let them heal themselves.”

“Okay, cool, cool.” Dean walks away, turning back to look at him, and then nods. “Cool, okay.”

He heads back over quickly, a large bucket of water in his hands, and multiple washcloths stuck under his arm.

“You sure are prepared,” Castiel comments, his wings shaking out slightly to remove some of the painfully loose and twisted feathers. Dean glances up, setting his loot down on the table and moving over.

“Do I just…pull out the loose ones?” Dean asks, his hand hovering over his wing.

“Yes. Please, be gentle, Dean.” Dean’s face heats up, and he stutters slightly.

“You need to work on your wording, Cas.” Dean mumbles, bending his head down to focus on his task of gently removing any loose feathers, straightening the other ones along the way. Castiel tilts his head, staring down at Dean, his other wing shaking out, causing more feathers to fall to the ground. “Dude, calm down- I’ll get to that one in a second. You don’t want to get them any more twisted than they already are.” Castiel sighs, his wing fluttering again.

“It hurts, Dean.” Dean sighs, gently discarding the feathers to the side as he goes.

“I’m sorry, Cas. I’m trying to go fast. I don’t want to hurt you- I’m being gentle like you asked.” Castiel grins, looking off to the side.

“Right, right.” He murmurs. “I’m sorry for my impatience- you’re doing me a favor right now,” he whispers.

“Yeah- but I owe you. A lot. You don’t get enough credit around here, Cas.” Dean clears his throat, running his hand over the now cleared patch of silky feathers, and he smiles, moving onto the next spot. “You’re a great fighter- an even better friend.” Castiel smiles softly down at Dean.

“You are too, Dean. You taught me what friendship and love truly means.” Dean’s cheeks heat up at his use of love, and he ducks his head more, pretending to focus more on his task.

“I remember when you first came down,” he comments, “I thought you were an ass- well, you were, but it wasn’t your fault.” Dean frowns. “Those feathery assholes were controlling you. You just needed someone to show you to think for yourself,” he mutters.

“And that was you, Dean,” Castiel’s voice is soft, “you taught me to not blindly follow others.” Dean swallows thickly.

“I’m glad you made that choice, Cas. I don’t know what we’d do if you’d have stayed on their side.”

“But I didn’t. I chose you. Despite the punishments I received, and I will continue to choose you…” His voice trails off, and he coughs lightly. “You and Sam.” He adds, his voice tight. “Of course.”

“Yeah- Sammy too,” Dean stammers. “Not just, me. Not just me and…you, there’s Sammy, and…there was Bobby, Jody…” His voice trails off as he looks up at Castiel, who stares down at him affectionately. “Claire…” He mutters, racking his brain for more people.

“You,” Castiel gentle says, his wide eyes staring into Dean’s. Dean stares back, his eyes wide and expression stuck in a confused state, his eyebrows pulling together.

“You…and me,” Dean whispers, “we make a great team, Cas.”

“We do.”

“You mean everything to me,” he continues.

“I’ve never cared for anything more,” Castiel mutters.

“I- I think…” Dean inhales suddenly, closing his eyes. “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” Castiel stares at him expectantly, his head tilting slightly as a soft smile crosses his face. “It’s okay, Dean. You don’t have to say it.”

“You…you know?”

“I know.” He murmurs. “It’s okay, Dean.” Dean sighs, his expression briefly filling with relief, but then he hears the shaking of Castiel’s wing, and his gaze snaps up to him.

“Hey! What did I say, cut it out! You’re gonna hurt your wing, Cas!” Castiel hangs his head in embarrassment.

“Sorry, Dean.” His voice is soft again. “It’s very uncomfortable.” Dean sighs, picking up the speed slightly.

“I’ll try and hurry then,” he murmurs, making note to keep his actions gentle. “I can always admire your wings some other time,” he comments, “if you’d let me see them, that is.”

“Admire?” Castiel whispers.

“Yes. They’re really beautiful, Cas.” Dean smiles. “The feathers are really soft.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel murmurs, his cheeks tinged pink. “I’m glad you like them.” His wing shakes out again, and Dean simply snaps, pointing over at it and muttering a stern:

“No.”

Castiel laughs lightly as Dean steps away, examining the wing at all angles before nodding.

“There,” he says. “Does it feel okay?” Castiel flutters the wing gently, happily looking over at Dean when no feathers fall off.

“Thank you, Dean.” Dean nods and reaches for the washcloth.

“Do you want me to…clean it also? Then I can do the other one?” Castiel smiles.

“I’d like that, Dean. Only if you want to- I don’t want to bother you too much.”

“It’s no bother, really.” Dean picks up a cloth and dips it in the warm water, moving back over to the wing. “Do I just…squeeze the water over it? Or, brush down like this.” He gently pulls the cloth down Castiel’s wings. Castiel smiles again, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Whichever you’d like, Dean,” he murmurs. “I don’t mind.” Dean grins and nods again.

“Okay,” he replies, gently washing the slick blood off his wings. “This part shouldn’t take too long.”

 

When Dean finishes with Castiel’s other wing, he steps back, grinning. “There you go, buddy.” Castiel shakes his wings out, some random droplets of water flying off them, and he smiles sighing. His wings disappear before Dean’s eyes, and he smiles.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel reaches for his bloodied shirt, and Dean reaches out, grabbing his arm.

“Dude, no, that’s dirty.”

“I don’t have any other clothing, Dean.”

“Here, come on,” Dean grabs Castiel’s hand, walking over to his room and digging through his drawers, pulling out one of his flannels. “Wear this,” Dean says, holding the shirt out to him. Castiel sighs, shrugging the shirt on and quickly buttoning it. Dean turns around, his face erupting in a smile. “You look good in flannel, Cas.” Dean laughs, his eyes trailing up and down Castiel’s body. “You should wear more than that trenchcoat,” he says, “expand your wardrobe.”

“I like my trench coat,” Castiel murmurs defensively, following Dean out of his room. They run into Sam on their way out, and he glances at Castiel, his eyes widening slightly.

“O-oh my god,” he laughs, covering his mouth. “Is that Dean’s flannel?”

“Shut up, Sammy.”

“I thought you said you were fixing his wings Dean,” Sam shouts, ducking to avoid the nearest mug that Dean hurls at him.

“Shut up, Sam!”

“I’m glad I didn’t join you two!” He comments, before really thinking. All three of them grimace, any of the previous humor sucked out of the room. “I- I’m just, I’m gonna go,” Sam comments, clearing his throat and turning around. Dean turns to Castiel, his eyebrows raising as he shrugs.

“That was awkward,” he hisses through his teeth, stepping forward and throwing his arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “Let’s go get a drink, Cas.”

“I’d like that, Dean.” He looks over at Dean and smiles, shrugging his arm off and quickly pressing his lips to Dean’s. Dean smiles, his hand going to the back of Castiel’s head. He pulls away quickly, glancing around to make sure Sam didn’t see, and then smiles, quickly kissing Castiel again before grabbing his hand.

“Sam doesn’t need to know yet,” he comments, “I wouldn’t want his head to implode at the thought of eternally being a third-wheel.” Castiel smiles, unsure he gets the reference but appreciating it nonetheless, and follows Dean to the garage.


End file.
